


The Silence of the Lambs (Without Lambs, But With Silence)

by Ange_de_la_Mort



Category: Marvel Avengers Movies RPF, Thor (2011) RPF
Genre: Gags, Light Bondage, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-15
Updated: 2012-05-15
Packaged: 2017-11-05 10:29:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/405400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ange_de_la_Mort/pseuds/Ange_de_la_Mort
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which a gag is nothing funny. At first.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Silence of the Lambs (Without Lambs, But With Silence)

**Author's Note:**

> For [this](http://norsekink.livejournal.com/8195.html?thread=16943363#t16943363)norsekink prompt.

_It's not real. A fake. All CGI, nothing more_ , Tom has to remind himself when he finally sees the movie for the first time. But it certainly looks real enough, doesn't it? He can almost feel the burning cold of metallic shackles closing tightly around his wrists, can imagine the taste of a gag being shoved inside his mouth. Nothing of this has happened - of course not, they were filming in a park and that would have been too much of a spoiler -, but a man can dream.  
  
And so Tom dreams, imagines chains and gags and has to suppress a moan (instead, he shivers and exhales audibly through his nose) when he sees himself - no, when he sees _Loki_ \- raising his gaze, the look in his eyes defiant and arrogant, resigned and helpless at the same time.  
  
 _Would I look the same?_ he wonders and sneaks a glance over to Chris, who happily munches his popcorn without taking his eyes from the screen. What would Chris say if Tom got them a shiny new toy to play with? They haven't been experimenting with these things yet, maybe because they are a little old-fashioned, maybe because their relationship hasn't reached that level of trust yet (although Tom wonders why exactly. He gets manhandled by Chris every day on set, why shouldn't they bring the manhandling to their bedroom?), maybe because sleeping with each other is enough of an experiment for now (they both don't consider themselves as gay; for them it's more of an "It's alright if it's you" kind of deal). Tom doesn't know. He also doesn't really care. The one thing he does know right now, however, is that he absolutely needs to get Chris into gagging him when they fuck (of course, only if Tom should like it, too, but considering simply the thought of it makes his pants grow uncomfortably tight, the real deal could only be even better.)  
  
-  
  
He tries it out the very same night, as soon as he gets back to his hotel room (which means he must be silent, but that shouldn't be a problem now, should it? Gags are there to muffle sounds, aren't they?). It's not a real gag he uses - not yet -, but rather two pieces of cloth, two of his scarves; the one crumbled into a small ball and stuffed into his mouth, the other one tied neatly and securely around his head.  
  
It feels ... nice. But nothing more. The taste of cloth on his tongue is irritating and he doesn't feel as helpless as he has hoped to, which might be because his make-shift gag is too tight in some places and not tight enough in others and he has to cough in disgust when some piece of cloth tickles the back of his throat and makes him feel like retching.  
  
With an annoyed groan he rips the cloth off and slides underneath his blankets, thoughts forming and reeling in his mind. Next time, he has to do it _right_. No improvisation. No cheap copies. Either the real thing or nothing.  
  
-  
  
The opportunity arises a few days later. They've just finished some interviews and another photo-shoot and are now free to do whatever they please until the next morning. That's when Tom slips away unnoticed.  
  
He returns a few hours later, carrying a simple brown paper-bag, and rushes to his room before anybody might see him.  
  
-  
  
It's a simple black and white ball gag, nothing fancy at all (that's why he's chosen it. It didn't look as intimidating as the others, although they made him shiver as well and he might have to 'investigate' a little further when he's finished here), but it still works its 'magic'. It's smooth between his fingertips, flawless. When he puts it in his mouth, it presses his tongue flat down, immobilizes it, makes speaking impossible. The smell of leather hits his nose and makes him whimper in anticipation as he closes the bindings behind his head. The gag doesn't yield, doesn't give in a single inch when he bites down on it. It still forces his lips apart, his mouth open, forces him to breathe through his nose.  
  
... it's perfect.  
  
But that's not all. He hasn't put on everything yet. With shaking fingers he reaches into the bag, only to produce a small pair of metal shackles which emit a silver shine in the bright light of the room. They are cold to the touch, the chains jingle slightly, a pleasing sound that makes Tom only shiver again and swallow audibly.  
  
The first shackle closes around his wrist and when it snaps shut with a _click_ , Tom whimpers and bucks his hips. He's already half-hard, his cock straining against the fabric of his pants, and as the feeling of helplessness increases, so does his arousal.  
  
Spontaneously, he decides to change his plan and closes the other shackle with his arms behind his back, pulling his muscles taut. _Oh, yes_ , he thinks breathlessly and lies down on his back, his arms supporting his whole weight, his eyes sliding shut on their own. Just thinking about the fact that Chris is only one room away and that he has a second key card to this room and that he could barge in any second, find him here, gagged and bound with his legs spread and his hard cock waiting to be touched, makes him whimper again (the sound delightfully muffled by the gag). He moves his hips again and again, seeking more friction than he can achieve this way.  
  
With no little effort, he manages to turn around, presses his face against the cushions and his body flush against the mattress and begins to _move_ , to rut against the sheets like a dog in heat (and he's completely unashamed). His breathing becomes laboured, uneven, and he closes his eyes again as whitehot _perfect_ pleasure shoots through his body with every move of his hips. He bites down hard on the gag and moans, feels his own saliva trickle down his lips and chin, feels it stain the cushions. Everything is hot, so hot, a drop of sweat runs down his forehead and over his cheek, his hair sticks to his skull and he is so, so close and - oh - he hasn't come in his pants in a decade, but now he feels like a schoolboy again who's going to have his very first orgasm and -  
  
"Tom?"  
  
... fuck.  
  
He freezes and exhales with a shudder, turns his head slightly to look over his shoulder.  
  
Chris is standing there, his mouth slightly ajar, his blue eyes wide with confusion, a blush on his cheeks. "What are you ... ?" he starts and falls silent again, licking his lips, and then slowly comes closer. When he sits down, the mattress dips a little under his weight, and he reaches out to remove the gag (and as he does so, there's a small string of saliva between the white plastic and Tom's lips, which makes Tom only groan audibly). "What," Chris tries again, "are you doing?"  
  
"Isn't it obvious? I'm having a cup of tea," Tom shoots back and raises his brows.  
  
"Tom, really ... it's dangerous to do stuff like that when you're alone."  
  
"Oh, really? Then how about you join me?" he asks, his voice still thick with pleasure  
  
"I don't ... "  
  
"You don't what? Chris, for fuck's sake, come on, just _think about it_!" That's quite ironic, actually, since he, too, has some troubles with thinking at the moment. "You can fuck me as hard as you want and I can scream as loud as _I_ want and we don't have to be fucking careful that no one hears us, and Chris, I want you to fuck me _right now_!" He rolls his hips and raises his ass a little more to emphazise his point, his fists clenching and unclenching on their own, straining against the now warm metal.  
  
Chris just looks at him, looks at his pleading face, the buldge in his pants, his ass ... and then finally nods. And then he hesitates again, and Tom wants to scream in frustration. "But what if ... if I hurt you when you're gagged? You can't exactly _tell_ me ... "  
  
"I'll kick you in the face."  
  
"Tom, this isn't funny."  
  
"No, Hemsworth, it isn't!" Tom hisses. "And I swear, I'm going to kick you right now if you don't -" He is cut short abruptly as Chris puts the still wet gag between his lips and fastens the leather straps tightly. Tom looks up to him, pleasently surprised, and when Chris brings a hand to his face and traces his lips with a fingertip, he can't help but smile around the gag.  
  
Chris still looks at him with concern shining in his eyes, but then he nods - more to himself - and relieves Tom of his pants (and Tom arches into every touch, his cock painfully hard and already leaking, the first droplets of pre-come dripping onto the sheets).  
  
Just as Tom shivers again under Chris' stare and parts his legs a little, he remembers something very important. So he nudges Chris with a foot into the general direction of the bag, because _of course_ he has bought new lube, one can never have enough lube, lube is _amazing_.  
  
The sound of a cap being opened follows. Then the thick smell of cherries. Wet fingertips press against his hole and and he moves backwards, impatiently impaling himself on two of Chris' fingers. There is no gentle teasing involved, no tender caresses, only quick preparations.  
  
After a few moments, Chris removes his fingers, and Tom hears the sound of a zipper being opened, and then Chris finally pushes inside him again, his thick cock spreading his hole and filling him up so fucking good. Wet fingers close around his hips and then Chris _moves_ and he doesn't hold back, because he must have missed this as well, and it's rough and hard and Tom wouldn't have it any other way. He screams into the gag, sobs in arousal and presses his face in the cushions, he hears Chris grunt over him, hears his ragged breathing that mirrors his own, hears groaned words of _yes_ and _good_ and _kinky bastard_ and then Chris yanks on the chain around his wrists and it's enough to make Tom come harder than ever before.  
  
He screams out until his throat is raw and hoarse and still moves his hips to meet each of Chris' thrusts until the fingers on his hips clench hard enough to leave bruises and Chris spends himself so very deep inside of him.  
  
When the gag is removed, Tom draws in a shaky breath and chuckles.  
  
"I see you're happy," Chris says and presses a kiss to his sweaty skin.  
  
"You have no idea," Tom rasps and gives a sigh, closes his eyes with a blissful smile. "Can you ... can you be a dear and unlock me? The key's somewhere in the bag."  
  
He can hear Chris rummaging through the bag and just as he grows impatient, Chris speaks up again. "Tom ... "  
  
"What are you waiting for? My arms are getting numb!"  
  
"There is no key."  
  
... fuck.  
  
(The journey back to the sex shop is one he will never forget. Not only because he has to explains to his colleagues why he's all tied up, but also because he just knows they will never let that go. And yes, the rest of their promotional trip is littered with stupid jokes to Tom's expense. But that's another story … )


End file.
